I 



PS 2263 

.fll 
1899 
b 
Copy 1 



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VAILE'S LITERATURE SERIES 



ISSUED MONTHLY 
CCEPT JULY AND AUGUST 



VOL. J. NO, J. 
JANUARY, J 900 



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LONGFELLOW ^ 



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EDITED *BY 

E. O. VA1LE 

% 

SINGLE NUMBER, 10 CENTS 
PER YEAR, $LOO 

INTELLIGENCE AND WEEK'S CURRENT 

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Entered at the 'Post-Office, Oak Park, III., as Second-Class matter. 



EVANGELINE 



A TALE OF ACADIE 



BY 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 



WITH NOTES AND INTRODUCTION 



BY 



E. O. VAILE 



^6 



INTELLIGENCE AND WEEEK'S CURRENT 
OAK PARK, (CHICAGO), iLL. 

Copyright 1899 by E. O. Vaile. 

\ 



53775 



TWO COPIES RECfiiVt 

j-ibrary 0/ QoDgrei% 
Office of tbt. 




HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 



SECOND COPY. 

EVANGELINE. 



as is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and 

the hemlocks, 
rded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the 
twilight, 
ind like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, 
and like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their 
bosoms. 
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring 
ocean 5 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the 
forest. 

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that 

beneath it 
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the 

voice of the huntsman? 
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian 

farmers, — 
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the wood- 
lands, 10 
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of 

heaven ? 
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever 

departed ! 
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of 

October 
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far 

o'er the ocean. 
Naught but tradition remains of the beatiful village of 

Grand-Pre. 15 



4 EVANGELINE 

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and 
is patient, 

Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's de- 
votion, 

List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of 
the forest; 

List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy 

PART THE FIRST. 

I. 

In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas, 
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre 21 
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the 

eastward, 
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without 

number. 
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor 

incessant, 
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the 

flood-gates 2;> 

Opened and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the 

meadows. 
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and 

cornfields 
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to 

the northward 
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the 

mountains 
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty 

Atlantic 30 

Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station 

descended. 
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian vil- 
lage. 
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of 

chestnut, 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 5 

Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of 
the Henries. 

Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables 
projecting 35 

Over the basement below protected and shaded the door- 
way. 

There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly 
the sunset 

Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the 
chimnevs, 

Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles 

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the 
golden 40 

Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within 
doors, 

Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the 
songs of the maidens. 

Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the 
children 

Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless 
them. 

Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons 
and maidens, 45 

Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate wel- 
come. 

Then came the laborers home from the field, and serenely 
the sun sank 

Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the 
belfry 

Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the vil- 
lage 

Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense ascend- 
ing, 

Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and con- 
tentment. 51 

Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers,— 



6 EVANGELINE 

Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they 
free from 

Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, tli3 vice of re- 
publics. 

Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their 
windows; 55 

But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the 
owners; 

There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abun- 
dance. 

Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin 

of Minas, 
Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pre, 
Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, directing his 

household, 60 

Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the 

village. 
Stalworth and stately in form was the man of seventy 

winters ; 
Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snow- 

. flakes; 
White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks were as 

brown as the oak-leaves. 
Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers; 
Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn 

by the wayside, 66 

Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown 

shade of her tresses ! 
Sweet was her breath as the breath of the kine that feed iD 

the meadows. 
When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontide 
Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah! fair in sooth was the 

maiden. 70 

Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from 

its turret 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 7 

Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his 
hyssop 

Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon 
them, 

Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads 
and her missal, 

Wearing her Norman cap and her kirtle of blue, and the 
earrings 75 

Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an 
heirloom, 

Handed down from mother to child, through long genera- 
tions. 

But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty- 
Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after con- 
fession, 

Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction 
upon her. 80 

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exqui- 
site music. 

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the 
farmer 

Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; and a 
shady 

Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing 
around it. 

Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; and a 
footpath 85 

Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the 
meadow. 

Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung by a pent- 
house, 

Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by the road- 
side, 

Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of Mary. 

Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well with 
its moss-grown 90 



8 EVANGELINE 

Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the 
horses. 

Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the 
barns and the farm-yard; 

There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique 
ploughs and the harrows; 

There were the folds for the sheep; and there, in his feath- 
ered seraglio, 

Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, with the 
selfsame 95 

Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter. 

Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village. In 
each one 

Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch; and a stair- 
case, 

Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn-loft. 

There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and innocent 
inmates 100 

Murmuring ever of love; while above in the variant breezes 

Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sung of muta- 
tion. 

Thus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer of 

Grand -Pre 
Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed his 

household. 
Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his 

missal, 105 

Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his deepest devo- 
tion; 
Happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of 

her garment ! 
Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness befriended, 
And, as he knocked and waited to hear the sound of her 

footsteps, 
Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the knocker 

of iron; J 10 



A TALE OF ACADIE 9 

Or, at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the village, 

Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he whis- 
pered 

Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the music. 

But among all who came young Gabriel only was welcome; 

Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith, 115 

Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored of all 
men; 

For since the birth of time, throughout all ages and na- 
tions, 

Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the 
people. 

Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from earliest 
childhood 

Grew up together as brother and sister; and Father Felician, 

Priest and pedagog both in the village, had taught them 
their letters 121 

Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the church 
and the plain-song. 

But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson com- 
pleted, 

Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the black- 
smith. 

There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold 
him 125 

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a play- 
thing, 

Nailing the shoe in its place; while near him the tire of the 
cart-wheel 

Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders. 

Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering dark- 
ness 

Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through every 
cranny and crevice, 130 

Warm by the forge within they watched the laboring bel- 
lows, 



10 EVANGELINE 

And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in the 

ashes, 
Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the 

chapel. 
Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle, 
Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er the 

meadow. 135 

Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the 

rafters, 
Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, which the 

swallow 
Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight of its 

fledglings; 
Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the swal- 
low! 
Thus passed a few swift } 7 ears, and they no longer were 

children. 140 

He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of the 

morning, 
Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought 

into action. 
She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a 

woman. 
"Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called; for that was 

the sunshine 
Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards 

with apples; 145 

She too would bring to her husband's house delight and 

abundance, 
Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of children. 

II. 

Now had the season returned, when the nights grow 
colder and longer, 
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters. 



A TALE OF ACADIE 11 

Birds of passage sailed through the laden air, from the ice- 
bound, 150 

Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands. 

Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of Sep- 
tember 

Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with the 
angel. 

All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. 

Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their 

honey 155 

Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters asserted 
Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes. 
Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that 

beautiful season, 
Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All- 
Saints ! 
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and 

the landscape 160 

Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood. 
Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart 

of the ocean 
Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in harmony 

blended. 
Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the 

farmyards, 
Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons, 
All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, and the 

great sun 166 

Looked with the eye of love through the golden vapors 

around him; 
While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet and yellow, 
Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of 

the forest 
Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with 

mantles and jewels. 170 



12 EVANGELINE 

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and 

stillness, 
Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight 

descending 
Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to 

the homestead. 
Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on 

each other, 
And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of 

evening. 175 

Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer, 
Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved 

from her collar, 
Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. 
Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from 

the seaside, 
Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them followed 

the watch -dog, 180 

Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his 

instinct, 
Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly 
Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers; 
Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; their 

protector, 
When from the forest at night, through the starry silence, 

the wolves howled. 185 

Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the 

marshes, 
Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. 
Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and 

their fetlocks, 
While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous 

saddles, 
Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of 

crimson, 190 

Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blossoms. 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 13 

Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their 

udders 
Unto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular 

cadence 
Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended. 
Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the 

farmyard, 19 *> 

Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into stillness; 
Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the 

barndoors, 
Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. 

In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the 
farmer 

Sat in his elbow chair, and watched how the flames and 
the smoke-wreaths 200 

Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind 
him, 

Nodding and mocking along the wall with gestures fan- 
tastic, 

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into 
darkness. 

Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his armchair 

Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates on 
the dresser 205 

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies the 
sunshine. 

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christ- 
mas, 

Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him 

Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian 
vineyards. 

Close at her father's side was the gentle Evangeline seated, 

Spinning flax for the loom that stood in the corner behind 
her. 211 

Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its diligent 
shuttle, 



14 EVANGELINE 

While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the drone 

of a bagpipe, 
Followed the old man's song, and united the fragments 

together. 
As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals 

ceases, 215 

Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at 

the altar, 
So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion the 

clock clicked. 

Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, sud- 
denly lifted, 

Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back on its 
hinges. 

Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil the 
blacksmith, 220 

And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with 
him. 

"Welcome!" the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps paused 
on the threshold, 

"Welcome, Basil, my friend! Come, take thy place on the 
settle 

Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty without 
thee; 

Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of to- 
bacco; 22:") 

Never so much thyself art thou as when, through the curling 

Smoke of the pipe or the forge, thy friendly and jovial face 
gleams 

Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist of 
the marshes." 

Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the 
blacksmith, 

Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside:- 

"Benedict Belief ontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy 
ballad! 231 



A TALE OF ACADIE 15 

Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others are filled 
with 

Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before them. 

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a 
horseshoe." 

Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evangeline 
brought him, 235 

And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he slowly 
continued: — 

"Four days now are passed since the English ships at their 
anchors 

Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon pointed 
against us. 

What their design may be is unknown; but all are com- 
manded 

On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majesty's 
mandate 240 

Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas! in the mean 
time 

Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people." 

Then made answer the farmer: — "Perhaps some friendlier 
purpose 

Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests in 
England 

By the untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted, 

And from our bursting barns they would feed their cattle 
and children." 246 

"Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said warmly 
the blacksmith, 

Shaking his head as in doubt; then, heaving a sigh, he con- 
tinued : — 

"Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor Port 
Royal, 

Many already have fled to the fores t? and lurk on its out- 
skirts, . 250 

Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of to-morrow. 



16 EVANGELINE 

Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weapons of all 

kinds; 
Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the scythe 

of the mower." 
Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial 

farmer: — 
"Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our 

cornfields, 255 

Safer within these peaceful dikes besieged by the ocean, 
Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's cannon. 
Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no shadow of 

sorrow 
Fall on this house and hearth; for this is the night of the 

contract. 
Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of the 

village 260 

Strongly have built them and well; and, breaking the 

glebe round about them, 
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a 

twelvemonth. 
Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and ink- 
horn. 
Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy of our 

children?" 
As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her 

lover's, 265 

Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had 

spoken, 
And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary entered. 

III. 

Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of tin 
ocean, 
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notai \ 
public; 




A TALE OF ACADIE 17 

Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, 
hung 270 

Over his shoulders; his forehead was high; and glasses with 
horn bows 

Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal. 

Father of twenty children was he, and more than a hun- 
dred 

Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his great 
watch tick. 

Four long years in the times of the war had he languished 
a captive, 275 

Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of the 
English. 

Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion, 

Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and child- 
like. 

He was beloved by all, and most of all by the children; 

For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the forest, 280 

And of the goblin that came in the night to water the 
horses, 

And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who unchris- 
tened 

Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers of 
children; 

And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable, 

And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a nut- 
shell, 285 

And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover and 
horseshoes, 

With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the village. 

Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the black- 
smith, 

Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his 
right hand, 

''Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, "thou hast heard the 
talk in the village, 290 



18 EVANGELINE 

And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships and 
their errand." 

Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary pub 
lie, — 

"Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the 
wiser; 

And what their errand may be I know no better than others. 

Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intention 295 

Brings them here, for we are at peace; and why then molest 
us?" 

"God's name!" shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible 
blacksmith; 

"Must we in all things look for the how, and the why, and 
the wherefore? 

Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the 
strongest!" 

But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary 
public,— 300 

"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice 

Triumphs; and well I remember a story, that often con- 
soled me, 

When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at Port 
Royal." 

This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved to re- 
peat it 

Whenever neighbors complained that any injustice was 
done them. 305 

"Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer remem- 
ber, 

Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice 

Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its left 
hand, 

And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice pre 
sided 

Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and homos of the 
people. 310 






A TALE OF AC AD IE 19 

Even the birds had built their nests in the scales of the 
balance, 

Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the sunshine 
above them. 

But in the course of time the laws of the land were cor- 
rupted ; 

Might took the place of right, and the weak were oppressed, 
and the mighty 

Euled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a nobleman's 
palace 315 

That a necklace of pearls was lost, and ere long a suspicion 

Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the household. 

She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold, 

Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice. 

As to her Father in Heaven her innocent spirit as- 
cended, 320 

Lo! o'er the city a tempest rose; and the bolts of the thunder 

Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its 
left hand 

Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of the 
balance, 

And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a magpie, 

Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls was in- 
woven." 325 

Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, the 
blacksmith 

Stood like a man who fain would speak, but findeth no lan- 
guage; 

All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face, as 
the vapors 

Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in the 
winter. 

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the 
table, 330 

Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home- 
brewed 



20 EVANGELINE 

Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the vil- 
lage of Grand Pre; 

While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and ink- 
horn, 

Wrote with a steady hand the date, and the age of the 
parties, 

Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and in 
cattle. 335 

Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were com- 
pleted, 

And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the 
margin. 

Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the table 

Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver; 

And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and bride- 
groom, 340 

Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their wel- 
fare. 
Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed and 
departed, 

While in silence the others sat and mused by the fireside, 

Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of its cor- 
ner. 

Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention the old 
men 345 

Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful manoeuvre, 

Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach was made 
in the king-row. 

Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's em- 
brasure, 

Sat the lovers and whispered together, beholding the moon 
rise 319 

Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows. 

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, 

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me nots of the 
angels. 



A TALE OF ACADIB 21 

Thus passed the evening away. Anon the bell from the 
belfry 

Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and straight- 
way 

Eose the guests and departed; and silence reigned in the 
household. 355 

Many a farewell word and sweet good night on the door- 
step 

Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with 
gladness. 

Carefully then were covered the embers that glowed on the 
hearth-stone, 

And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of the farmer. 

Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline followed. 

Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the darkness, 

Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the 
maiden. 362 

Silent she passed through the hall, and entered the door of 
her chamber. 

Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and 
its clothes-press 

Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully 
folded 36 S 

Linen and woolen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline woven. 

This was the precious dower she would bring to her hus- 
band in marriage, 

Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a 
housewife. 

Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radi- 
ant moonlight 

Streamed through the windows, and lighted the room, till 
the heart of the maiden 370 

Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of 
the ocean. 

Ah! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she tood 
with 



22 EVANGELINE 

Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber! 
Little she dreamed that below, among* the trees of the 

orchard. 
Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her lamp 

and her shadow. 375 

Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling of 

sadness 
Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the 

moonlight 
Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a mo- 
ment. 
And, as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the 

moon pass 
Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her 

footsteps, 880 

As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered with 

Hagar. 

IV. 

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of 

Grand -Pre, 
Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of 

Minas, 
Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding 

at anchor. 
Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor 
Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of 

the morning. ;* ( sf> 

Now from the country around, from the farms and neigh- 
boring hamlets, 
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants. 
Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the 

young folk 
Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous 

meadows, 390 

Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the 

greensward, 




A TALE OF ACADIE 23 

Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on the 
highway. 

Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor were 
silenced. 

Thronged were the streets with people; and noisy groups 
at the house-doors 394 

Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped to- 
gether. 

Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and 
feasted; 

For with this simple people, who lived like brothers to- 
gether, 

All things were held in common, and what one had was 
another's. 

Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more abund- 
ant: 

For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father; 400 

Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and 
gladness 

Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she 
gave it. 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard, 
Stript of its golden fruit, was spreal the feast of betrothal. 
There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the 

notary seated; 405 

There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith. 
Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and the 

beehives, 
Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts 

and of waistcoats. 
Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played on his 

snow-white 
Hair, as it waved in the wind; and the jolly face of the fid- 
dler 410 
Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from 

the embers. 



24 EVANGELINE 

Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his fiddle, 

Tons les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon de Dan- 
ker que? 

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. 

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances 

Under the orchard trees and down the path to the mead- 
ows; 416 

Old folk and young together, and children mingled among 
them. 

Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's 
daughter! 

Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the black- 
smith ! 

So passed the morning away. And lo! with a summons 

sonorous 420 

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a 

drum beat. 
Thronged ere long was the church with men. Without, in 

the churchyard, 
Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung 

on the headstones 
Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the 

forest. 
Then came the guard from the ships, and marching 

proudly among them 42r> 

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant 

clangor 
Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and 

casement, — 
Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal 
Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the 

soldiers. 
Then uprose their commander, and spa lie from the steps 

of the altar, 130 

Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal com- 
mission. 



A TALE OF AC ABIE 



25 



"You are convened this day," he said, "by his Majesty's 

orders. 
Clement and kind has he been; but how you have answered 

his kindness 
Let your own hearts reply! To my natural make and my 

temper 
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be 

grievous. 435 

Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our mon- 
arch: 
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of 

all kinds 
Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from 

this province 
Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell 

there 439 

Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people! 
Prisoners now I declare you, for such is his Majesty's pleas- 



ure! 



V 



As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, 

Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hail- 
stones 

Beats down the farmer's corn in the field, and shatters his 
windows, 

Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from 
the house-roofs, 445 

Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their enclosures; 

So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the 
speaker. 

Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and 
then rose 

Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, 

And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the 
doorway. 450 

Vain was the hope of escape; and cries and fierce impreca- 
tions 



26 EVANGELINE 

Kang through the house of prayer; and high o'er the heads 

of the others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the black- 
smith, 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion; and 

wildly he shouted, — 455 

"Down with the tyrants of England! we never have sworn 

them allegiance! 
Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes 

and our harvests!" 
More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a 

soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the 

pavement. 

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry conten- 
tion, 460 

Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician 

Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the 
altar. 

Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into 
silence 

All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his people; 

Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents measured and 
mournful 4(>r> 

Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock 
strikes. 

"What is this that ye do, my children? what madness has 
seized you? 

Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and 
taught you, 

Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another: 

Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers an' 1 
privations? 470 

Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgive- 
ness? 




A TALE OF AC AD IE 27 

This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you 
profane it 

Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with 
hatred ? 

Lo! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon 
you! 

See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy com- 
passion! 475 

Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 'O Father, for- 
give them!' 

Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked 
assail us, 

Let us repeat it now, and say, 'O Father, forgive them!'" 

Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his 
people 

Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate 
outbreak, 480 

While they repeated his prayer, and said, a O Father, for- 
give them!" 

Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed 
from the altar; 
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the 

people responded, 

Not with their lips alone, but their hearts; and the Ave Maria 

Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with 

devotion translated, 485 

Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to 

heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill 

and on all sides 
Wandered, wailing, from house to house the women and 

children. 
Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, with her right 

hand 



28 EVANGELINE 

Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, de- 
scending, 490 

Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor, and 
roofed each 

Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned its 
windows. 

Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on the 
table; 

There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant with 
wild flowers; 

There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh 

brought from the dairy; 495 

And at the head of the board the great arm-chair of the 
farmer. 

Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, as the sunset 

Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad ambrosial 
meadows. 

Ah! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen, 

And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial as- 
cended, — 500 

Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, and 
patience! 

Then, all forgetful of self, she wandered into the village, 

Cheering with looks and words the disconsolate hearts of 
the women, 

As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they de- 
parted, 

Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet of their 
children. 505 

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering 
vapors 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending 
from Sinai. 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded. 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline 
lingered. 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 



29 



All was silent within; and in vain at the door and the win- 
dows 510 

Stood she, and listened and looked, until, overcome by 
emotion, 

"Gabriel!" cried she aloud with tremulous voice; but no 
answer 

Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier grave 
of the living. 

Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of 
her father. 

Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board was the 
supper untasted, 515 

Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phan- 
toms of terror. 

Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her 
chamber. 

In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate rain 
fall 

Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the 
window. 

Keenly the lightning flashed; and the voice of the echoing 
thunder 520 

Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world 
he created! 

Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice 
of Heaven; 

Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slum- 
bered till morning. 



V. 

Four times the sun had risen and set; and now on the 
fifth day 

Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farm- 
house. 525 

Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful proces- 
sion, 



30 EVANGELINE 

Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the Acadian 

women, 
Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to the 

seashore, 
Pausing and looking back to gaze once more oh their 

dwellings, 
Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and 

the woodland. 530 

Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the 

oxen, 
While in their little hands they clasped some fragments 

of playthings. 

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried; and there 
on the sea-beach 
Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants. 
All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats 

ply; 5;;:, 

All day long the wains came laboring down from the vil- 
lage. 

Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting, 

Echoing far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from the 
churchyard. 

Thither the women and children thronged. On a sudden 
the church doors 

Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in 
gloomy procession 540 

Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian 
farmers. 

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and 
their country, 

Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and 
way-worn, 

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants de- 
scended 

Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and 
their daughters. 54 5 






A TALE OF AC AD IE 31 

Foremost the young men came; and, raising together their 
voices, 

Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic Mis- 
sions : — 

"Sacred heart of the Saviour! O inexhaustible fountain! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and 
patience!" 

Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that 
stood by the wayside 550 

Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the sunshine 
above them 

Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits de- 
parted. 

Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited in silence, 

Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of afflic- 
tion, — 

Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession ap- 
proached her, 555 

And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. 

Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running to meet him, 

Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his shoulder, 
and whispered, — 

"Gabriel! be of good cheer! for if we love one another 

Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may 
happen!" 560 

Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for 
her father 

Saw she, slowly advancing. Alas! how changed was his 
aspect ! 

Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his 
eye, and his footstep 

Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy heart in his 
bosom. 

But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck and 
embraced him, 565 



32 EVANGELINE 

Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort 

* availed not. 
Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that mournful 
procession. 

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of em- 
barking. 

Busily plied the freighted boats: and in the confusion 

Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too 
late, saw their children 570 

Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest en- 
treaties. 

So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried, 

While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her 
father. 

Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and 
the twilight 

Deepened and darkened around; and in haste the refluent 
ocean 575 

Fled away from the shore, and left the line of the sand- 
beach 

Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slippery 
seaweed. 

Farther back in the midst of the household goods and the 
wagons, 

Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle, 

All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near them, 

Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian 
farmers. 581 

Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing ocean, 

Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and leav- 
ing 

Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the 
sailors. 

Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from 
their pastures; 585 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 33 

Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of milk from 

their udders; 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of 

the farm-yard, — 
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of 

the milkmaid. 
Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Ange- 

lus sounded, 
Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights from 

the windows. 590 

But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been 

kindled, 
Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks 

in the tempest. 
Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were 

gathered, 
Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying 

of children. 
Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his 

parish, 595 

Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and 

cheering, 
Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate seashore. 
Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat with 

her father, 
And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man, 
Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought 

or emotion, 600 

E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been 

taken. 
Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer 

him, 
Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, 

he spake not, 
But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering fire- 
light. 



Si EVANGELINE 

"Benedicite !" murmured the priest, in tones of compassion. 

More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and 
his accents 606 

Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on 
a threshold, 

Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence 
of sorrow. 

Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the 
maiden, 

Eaising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that above them 

Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sor- 
rows of mortals. 611 

Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in 
silence. 

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the 
blood -red 

Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the hori- 
zon 

Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain 
and meadow, 615 

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows 
together. 

Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the 
village, 

Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in 
the roadstead. 

Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were 

Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quiver- 
ing hands of a martyr. 620 

Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch, 
and, uplifting', 

Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hun- 
dred house-tops 

Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame inter- 
mingled. 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 35 

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore 
and on shipboard. 

Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud in their 
anguish, 625 

"We shall behold no more our homes in the village of 
Grand-Pre!" 

Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farmyards, 

Thinking the day had dawned; and anon the lowing of 
cattle 

Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs inter- 
rupted. 

Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping 
encampments 630 

Par in the western prairies of forests that skirt the Ne- 
braska, 

When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the speed 
of the whirlwind, 

Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the river. 

Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the herds 
and the horses 

Broke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed 
o'er the meadows. 635 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest 
and the maiden 

Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened 
before them; 

And as they turned at length to speak to their silent com- 
panion, 

Lo! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on 
the seashore 639 

Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had departed. 

Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the maiden 

Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her terror. 

Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his 
bosom. 



36 EVANGELINE 

Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious slumber; 

And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a multi- 
tude near her. • 645 

Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully- gazing 
upon her, 

Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest compassion. 

Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the land- 
scape, 

Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces 
around her, 649 

And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. 

Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the people, — 

"Let us bury him here by the sea. When a happier season 

Brings us again to our homes from the unknown land of 
our exile, 

Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the church- 
yard." 

Such were the words of the priest. And there in haste b} T 
the sea-side, 656 

Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches, 

But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand - 
Pre. 

And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sor- 
row, 

Lo! with a mournful sound like the voice of a vast congre- 
gation, 

Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the 
dirges. 660 

'Twas the returning tide, that afar from the waste of the 
ocean, 

With the first dawn of the da} 7 , came heaving and hurrying 
landward. 

Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of em- 
barking; 

And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of the 
harbor. 



A TALE OF AC ABIE 



37 



Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the village 



in rums. 



665 






PART THE SECOND. 

I. 

Many a weary year had passed since the burning of 

Grand-Pre, 
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed, 
Bearing a nation, with its household gods, into exile, 
Exile without an end, and without an example in story. 
Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed; 670 
Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind 

from the northeast 
Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of 

Newfoundland. 
Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city 

to city, 
From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern 

savannas, — 
From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the 

Father of Waters 675 

Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to the 

ocean, 
Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the 

mammoth. 
Friends they sought and homes; and many, despairing, 

heart-broken, 
Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor 

a fireside. 

Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the 
churchyards. 680 

Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and 
• wandered, * 

Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all 
things. 



38 EVANGELINE 

Fair was she and young; but, alas! before her extended, 

Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its path- 
way 

Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suf- 
fered before her, • 585 

Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and 
abandoned, 

As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked by 

Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the 
sunshine. 

Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, un- 
finished; 689 

As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine, 

Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descended 

Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. 

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever 
within her, 

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the 
spirit, 

She would commence again her endless search and en- 
deavor; WX) 

Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the 
crosses and tombstones, 

Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in 
its bosom 

He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside 
him. 

Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved 

and known him, 699 

But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten. 
"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" they said; "Oh, yes! we have seen 
him. 
He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to 

• the prairies; 
Coureurs-des-bois are they, and famous hunters and trap- 
pers." 705 



A TALE OF ACADIE r _ 39 

"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" said others; "Oh, yes! we have seen 

him. 
He is a voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana." 
Then would they say, "Dear child! why dream and wait 

for him longer? 
Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel ? others 709 
Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal? 
Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved 

thee 
Many a tedious year; come, give him thy hand and be 

happy ! 
Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses." 
Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, "I can- 
not! 
Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and 

not elsewhere. 715 

For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines 

the pathway, 
Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in dark- 
ness." 
Thereupon the priest, her friend and father confessor, 
Said, with a smile, "O daughter! thy God thus speaketh 

within thee! 719 

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted ; 
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning 
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of 

refreshment ; 
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the 

fountain. 
Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of 

affection ! 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is 
• godlike. 725 

Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is 

niade godlike, 






40 EVANGELINE 

Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more 
worthy of heaven!" 

Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline labored and 
waited. 

Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean, 

But with its sound there was mingled a voice that whis- 
pered, "Despair not!" 730 

Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless dis- 
comfort, 

Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of exist- 
ence. 

Let me essay, Muse! to follow the wanderer's footsteps; — 

Not through each devious path, each changeful year of 

existence; 
But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course through the 

valley: 735 

Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of i ts 

water 
Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only; 

Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvaii glooms that 
conceal it, 

Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous mur- 
mur; 

Happy, at length, if he find a spot where it reaches an 
outlet. 740 

II; 

It was the month of May. Far down the Beautiful River, 
Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash, 
Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Mississippi, 
Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian boat- 
men. 
It was a band of exiles: a raft, as it were, from the ship- 
wrecked 745 
Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together, 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 41 

• 

Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a common 

misfortune; 
Men and women and children, who, guided by hope or by 

hearsay, 
Sought for their kith and their kin among the few-acred 

farmers 
On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Opelousas. 
With them Evangeline went, and her guide, the Father 

Felician. 751 

Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness sombre 

with forests, 
Day after day they glided ad own the turbulent river; 
Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped on its 

borders. 
Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, where 

plumelike 755 

Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they swept with 

the current, 
Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sandbars 
Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves of their 

margin, 
Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pelicans 

waded. 759 

Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of the river, 
Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant gardens, 
Stood the houses of planters, with negro cabins and dove- 
cots. 
They were approaching the region where reigns perpetual 

summer, 
Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of orange 

and citron, 764 

Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the eastward. 
They, too, swerved from their course; and, entering the 

Bayou of Plaquemine, • 

Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters, 
Which, like a network of steel, extended in every direction. 



42 EVANGELINE 

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the 
cypress • 

Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid-air 770 

Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient 
cathedrals. 

Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save by the 
herons 

Home to their roosts in the cedar- trees returning at sunset, 

Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with demoniac 1 
laughter. 

Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on 
the water, 775 

Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining 
the arches, 

Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through 
chinks in a ruin. 

Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things 
around them; 

And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder and 
sadness, — 

Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot be com- 
passed. 7 SO 

As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the prairies. 

Far in advance are closed the leaves of th<> shrinking mi- 
mosa, 

So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil. 

Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom has 
attained it. 

But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, thai 
faintly 786 

Floated before her e}^es, and beckoned her on through the 
moonlight. 

[t was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of 
a phantom. 

Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wandered be- 
fore her, 



A TALE OF ACADIE 43 

And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer and 
nearer. 

Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of 

the oarsmen, 790 

And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradventure 
Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast 

on his bugle. 
Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the 

blast rang, 
Breaking the seal of silence and giving tongues to the 

forest. 
Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to 

the music. 795 

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance, 
Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant 

branches; 
But not a voice replied ; no answer came from the darkness ; 
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was 

the silence. 
Then Evangeline slept; but the boatmen rowed through 

the midnight, 800 

Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat-songs, 
Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers, 
And through the night were heard the mysterious sounds 

of the desert, 
Far off, indistinct, as of wave or wind in the forest, 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim 

alligator. 805 

Thus ere another noon they emerged from the shades; 

and before them 
Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya. 
Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulations 
Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the 

lotus 809 

Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. 



44 E VANGELINE 

Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia 
blossoms, 

And with the heat of noon; and numberless sylvan islands. 

Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges 
of roses, 

Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber. 

Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were sus- 
pended. 815 

Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the 
margin, 

Safely their boat was moored; and scattered about on the 
greensward, 

Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers slum- 
bered. 

Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar. 

Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet -flower and the 
grape-vine 820 

Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob, 

On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descend ing. 

Were the swift humming-birds, that Bitted from blossom 
to blossom. 

Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered be- 
neath it. 

Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening 
heaven 828 

Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial. 

Nearer, ever nearer, among the numberless islands, 
Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water. 
Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunter- and 

trappers. 
Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison 

and beaver. s;*0 

At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful and 

careworn. 
Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a 

sadness 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 45 

Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written. 
Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and rest- 
less, 834 
Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of sorrow. 
Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the island, 
But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of palmet- 
tos; 
So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed in 

the willows; 
All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, were 

the sleepers; 
iVngel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering 

maiden. 840 

Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the 

prairie. 
After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the 

distance, 
As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the maiden 
Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, "O Father Felician ! 
Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel wanders ■. 
Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague superstition? 846 
Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my 

spirit?" 
Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my credulous 

fancy! 
Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning." 
But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled as he 

answered, — 850 

"Daughter, thy words are not idle; nor are they to me 

without meaning, 
Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the 

surface 
Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is 

hidden. 
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls 

illusions. 



46 EVANGELINE 

Gabriel truly is near thee; for not far away to the south- 
ward, 855 

On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur and 
St. Martin, 

There the long- wandering bride shall be given again to 
her bridegroom, 

There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheep- 
fold. 

Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit- 
trees; 

Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of 
heavens 8(50 

Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the 
forest. 

They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisi- 
ana." 

With these words of cheer they arose and continued their 
journey. 

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western hori- 
zon 

Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the land- 
scape; 865 

Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forot 

Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled 
together. 

Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver, 

Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless 

water. 
Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness. 

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feel- 
ing 871 

Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters 
around her. 

Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest 
of singers, 



A TALE OP AC AD IE 



47 




Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water, 

Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, 

That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed 
silent to listen. 876 

Plaintive at first were the tones and sad; then soaring to 
madness 

Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bac- 
chantes. 

Single notes were then heard; in sorrowful, low lamenta- 
tion; 

Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in 
derision, 880 

As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree- 
tops 

Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the 
branches. 

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with 
emotion, 

Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the 
green Opelousas, 

And, through the amber air, above the crest of the wood- 
land, • 885 

Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring 
dwelling; — 

Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of 
cattle. 



III. 



Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks 

from whose branches 

Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted, 

Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at Yule- 

- tide, . 890 

Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. A 

garden 



48 EVANGELINE 

Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms, 

Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of 
timbers 

Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted together. 

Large and low was the roof; and on slender columns sup- 
ported, 895 

Kose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious ve- 
randa, 

Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around 
it. 

At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden, 

Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual symbol, 

Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals. 

Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and 
sunshine 901 

Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in 
shadow, 

And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding 

Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose. 

In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a path- 
Way 905 

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limit- 
less prairie, 

Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending. 

Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvas 

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the 
tropics, 

Stood a cluster of trees, w r ith tangled cordage of grape- 
vines. 910 

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of the 

« prairie, 
Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and stirrups, 
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin. 
Broad and brown was the face that from under the Span- 
ish sombrero 




A TALE OF AC AD IE 49 

Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its 

master. 915 

Round about him were numberless herds of kine that were 

grazing 
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness 
That uprose from the river, and spread itself over the 

landscape. 
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding 
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded 
Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of 

the evening. 921 

Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the 

cattle 
Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean. 
Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er 

the prairie, 
And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the dis- 
tance. 925 
Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the 

gate of the garden 
Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing 

to meet him. 
Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement, 

and forward 
Pushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder; 
When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the 

blacksmith. 930 

Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden. 
There in an arbor of roses with endless question and 

answer 
Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly 

embraces, 
Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and 

thoughtful. 
Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not; and now dark doubts 

and misgivings 935 



50 EVANGELINE 

Stole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat embar- 
rassed, 

Broke the silence and said, "If you came by the Atcha- 
falaya, 

How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on 
the bayous?" 

Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade 
passed. 

Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous 
accent, 940 

"Gone? is Gabriel gone?" and, concealing her face on his 
shoulder, 

All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and 
lamented. 

Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew blithe as he 
said it, — ■ 

"Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he departed. 

Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my herds and my 
horses. 945 

Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spirit 

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence. 

Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever, 

Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles 

He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens, 

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and 
sent him 951 

Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Span- 
iards. 

Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Moun- 
tains, 

Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the 
beaver. 

Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive 
lover; 956 

He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are 
against him. 






A TALE OF ACADIE 51 

Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the 

morning, 
We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison." 

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of 
the river, 

Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the 
fiddler. 960 

Long under Basil's roof had he lived, like a god on Olym- 
pus, 

Having no other care than dispensing music to mortals. 

Par renowned was he for his silver locks and his fiddle. 

: 'Long live Michael," they cried, "our brave Acadian min- 
strel!" 

4s they bore him aloft in triumphal procession; and 
straightway 965 

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the 
old man 

Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enrap- 
tured, 

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips, 

Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and 
daughters. 

Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the ci-devant 
blacksmith, 970 

All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal de- 
meanor; 

Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and the 
climate. 

And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were his who 
would take them; 

Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go and 
do likewise. 

Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy 
veranda, 975 

Entered the hall of the house 3 where already the supper of 
Basil 



52 EVANGELINE 

Waited his late return; and they rested and feasted to- 
gether. 

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended. 
All was silent without, and, illuming the landscape with 

silver, 
Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars; but within 

doors, 98( ) 

Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glim- 
mering lamplight. 
Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, the 

herdsman 
Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless 

profusion. 
Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches 

tobacco, 
Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as 

they listened: — 985 

"Welcome once more, my friends, who long have been 

friendless and homeless, 
Welcome once more to a home, that is better perchance 

than the old one! 
Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the rivers; 
Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the farmer; 
Smoothly the plowshare runs through the soil, as a keel 

through the water. ( .HH) 

All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom; and 

grass grows 
More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer. 
Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the 

prairies ; 
Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of 

timber 
With a few blows of the ax are hewn and Framed into 

houses. 996 

After your houses are built, and your Gelds arc yellow with 

harvests, 





A TALE OF AC ABIE 53 

No King George of England shall drive you away from 

your homesteads, 
Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing your farms 

and your cattle." 
Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his 

nostrils, 
While his huge, brown hand came thundering down on the 

table, 1000 

So that the guests all started; and Father Felician, as- 
tounded, 
Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way to his 

nostrils. 
But the brave Basil resumed, and his words w#re milder 

and gayer: — 
"Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of the fever! 
For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate, 1005 
Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck in a nut- 
shell !" 
Then there were voices heard at the door, and footsteps 

approaching 
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy veranda. 
It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters, 
Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the 

herdsman. 1010 

Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors : 
Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before 

were as strangers, 
Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each other, 
Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceeding 
From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle, 
Broke up all further speech. Away, like children delighted, 
All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to the 

maddening • 1018 

Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to the 

music, 



54 EVANGELINE 

Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of fluttering 
garments. llLO 

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and 
the herdsman 

Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; 

While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her 

Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music 

Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sad- 
ness 1025 

Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the 
garden. 

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the 
forest, 

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the 
river 

Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous 
gleam of the moonlight, 

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious 
spirit. 1090 

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the 
garden 

Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and 
confessions 

Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian. 

Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows 
and night-dews, 

Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical 
moonlight LQ35 

Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings. 

As, through the garden-gate, and beneath the shade of the 
oak-trees, 

Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless 
prairie. 

Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies 

Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite num- 
bers. 1040 




A TALE OF AC AD IE 55 

Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the 
heavens, 

Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and 
worship, 

Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that 
temple, 

As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Uphar- 
sin." 

And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire- 
flies, 1045 

Wandered alone, and she cried, "O Gabriel! O my be- 
loved! 

Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee ? 

Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach 
me? 

Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie! 

Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands 
around me! 1050 

Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, 

Thou hast laid down to rest, and to dream of me in thy 
slumbers ! 

When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about 
thee?" 

Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill 
sounded 

Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighbor- 
ing thickets, 1055 

Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into 
silence. 

"Patience!" whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of 
darkness; 

And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, "To- 
morrow!" 

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the 
garden 



56 EVANGELINE 

Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed 
his tresses » 1060 

With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of 
crystal. 

"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy 
threshold ; 

"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting 
and famine, 

And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bride- 
groom was coming." 

"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil 
descended L065 

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were 
waiting. 

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, 
and gladness, 

Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding 
before them, 10T>S 

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert. 

Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded. 

Found they trace of his course, in lake, or forest, or river, 

Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and 
uncertain 

Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and deso- 
late country; 

Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Aday< 

Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the gar 
rulous landlord 1076 

That on the day before, with horses and guides and com- 
panions, 
Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairie-. 

IV. 

Far in the West there lies a desert land, where the moun- 
tains 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 57 

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous 

* summits. - 

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, 
like a gateway, 1080 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's 
wagon, 

Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owy- 
hee. 

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river 
Mountains, 

Through the Sweet -water Valley precipitate leaps the Ne- 
braska; 

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish 
Sierras, 1085 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of 
the desert, 

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the 
ocean, 

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibra- 
tions. 

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beauti- 
ful prairies, 1089 

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine, 

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple amor- 
phas. 

Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the elk and 
the roebuck; 

Over them wandered the wolves, and herds of riderless 
horses; 

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with 
travel; 

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's chil- 
dren, 1095 

Staining the desert with blood, and above their terrible 

• war-frails 

Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture, 



58 EVANGELINE 

Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in 
battle, 

By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens. 

Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage 
marauders; 1100 

Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift -run- 
ning rivers; 

And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the 
desert, 

Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the 
brookside, 

And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven, 

Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them. 1105 

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the ( )/ark Moun- 
tains, 

Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappera behind 
him. 

Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and 
Basil 

Followed his flying steps, and thought each da\ to 
o'ertake him. 

Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke of 
his camp-fire I I 1 1 1 

Rise in the morning air from the distant plain; but at 
nightfall, 

When they had reached the place, they found only embers 
and ashes. 

And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies 
were weary, 

Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana 

Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and van- 
ished before them. 1 1 1 ;, 

Once, as they sat by their evening lire, there silently 
entered 



A TALE OF AC ABIE 59 

Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose features 

Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great as her 
sorrow. 

She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her people, 

From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Camanches, 

Where her Canadian husband, a coureur-des-bois, had been 
murdered. 1121 

Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest and 
friendliest welcome 

Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and feasted 
among them 

On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the embers. 

But when their meal was done, and Basil and all his com- 
panions, 1125 

Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the deer 
and the bison, 

Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where the 
quivering fire-light 

Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms wrapped 
up in their blankets, 

Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and repeated 

Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her Indian 
accent, 1130 

All the tale of her love, with its pleasures, and pains, and 
reverses. 

Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know that an- 
other 

Hapless heart like her own had loved and had been disap- 
pointed. 

Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and woman's 
compassion, 

Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suffered was 
near her, 1135 

She in turn related her love and all its disasters. 

Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had 
ended 



.60 EVANGELINE 

Still was mute; but at length, as if a mysterious horror 
Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated the tale 

of the Mowis; 
Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded a 

maiden, 1140 

But, when the morning came, arose and passed from the 

wigwam, 
Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine. 
Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far into 

the forest. 
Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like a weird 

incantation, 
Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a 

phantom, 11 16 

That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in the hush 

of the twilight, 
Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the 

maiden, 
Till she followed his green and waving plume through the 

forest, 
And nevermore returned, nor was seen again by her people. 
Silent with wonder and strange surprise. Evangeline 

listened 
To the soft flow of her magical words, till the region 
around her 1 1 ;, 1 

Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest the 

enchantress. 
Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the moon rose, 
Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious splendor 
Touching the sombre leaves, and embracing and filling the 

woodland. 1 j 55 

With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the 

• branches • 

Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible whispn 
Filled with thoughts of love was Evangeline's heart, but 

secret, 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 61 

Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite terror, 
As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest of the 
swallow. 1160 

It was no earthly fear. A breath from the region of spirits 
Seemed to float in the air of night; and she felt for a mo- 
ment 
That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing a phan- 
tom. 
With this thought she slept, and the fear and the phantom 
had vanished. 

Early upon the morrow the march was resumed, and the 
Shawnee ■ 1165 

Said, as they journeyed along. — "On the western slope of 
these mountains 

Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief of the 
Mission. 

Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary and 
Jesus; 

Loud laugh their hearts with joy. and weep with pain, as 
they hear him." 

Then, with a sudden and secret emotion. Evangeline an- 
swered, — 1170 

"Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings await us!" 

Thither they tinned their steeds: and behind a spin of the 
mountains. 

Just as the sun went down, thev heard a rnurniur of voices. 

And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank of a river. 

Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit 
Mission. 1175 

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the vil- 
lage, 

Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A crucifix 
fastened 

High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by grape- 
vines. 



02 EVANGELINE 

m 

Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling 
beneath it. 

This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the intricate 
arches 1180 

Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers. 

Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of the 
branches. 

Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer ap- 
proaching, 

Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening de- 

- votions. 

But when the service was done, and the benediction had 
fallen 

Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the 
hands of the sower. J 186 

Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and 
bade them 

Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benignant 

expression, 

Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother tongue in the 
forest, 

And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wig- 
wam. [190 

There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of 
the maize-ear 

Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd of 
the teacher. 

Soon was their story told; and the priest with solemnity 
answered: — 

"Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seated 

On this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes, 

Told me this same sad tale; then arose and continued bia 
journey!" HQg 

Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an ac- 
cent of kindness; 

But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in winter the 
snow-flakes 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 63 

Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have de- 
parted. 

"Far to the north he has gone," continued the priest; "but 
in autumn, 1200 

When the chase is done, will return again to the Mission." 

Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and sub- 



missive, 



"Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted. " 
So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the 

morrow, 
Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and 

companions, 1205 

Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the 

Mission. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other,— 
Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that 

were springing 
Green from the ground when a stranger she came, now 

waving about her, 
Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and 

forming 1210 

Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by 

squirrels. 
Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the 

maidens 
Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover, 
But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the 

cornfield. 
Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her 

lover. 1216 

"Patience!" the priest would say; "have faith, and thy 

prayer will be answered ! 
Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from the 

meadow, 

See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the 
magnet; 



64 EVANGELINE 

It is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has sus- 
pended ■ 1219 
Here on its fragile stalk, to direct the traveller's journey 
Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert. 
Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of passion, 

Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of fra- 
grance, 

But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their odor La 

deadly. 
Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter 
Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews 

of nepenthe." 122(1 

So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter ye\ 

Gabriel came not; 
Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin 

and bluebird 
Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came 

not. 
But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was wafted 
Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom. L231 
Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests, 
Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River. 
And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St. 

Lawrence, 
Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission. 
When over weary ways, by long and perilous ma relies, 1286 
She had attained at length the depth of the Michigan l« 

ests. 
Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin! 

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons 
• and places m [239 

Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden,— 
Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Mission 
Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the armj 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous citi< 



A TALE OF ACADIE 65 

Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. 

Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long 
journey; 1245 

Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it ended. 

Each succeeding year stole something away from her 
beauty, 

Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the 
shadow. 

Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er 
her forehead, 

Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly horizon, 

As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morn- 
ing. 12S1 

V. 

■ In that delightful land which is washed by the Dela- 
ware's waters, 
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle, 

Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he 

founded. 
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of 

beauty, 1255 

And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the 

forest, 
As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts 

they molested. 
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an 

exile, 
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country. 
There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he de- 
parted, 1260 
Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants. 
Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the 

city, 
Something that spake to her heart, and made her no longer 

a stranger; 



m EVANGELINE 

And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of the 
Quakers, 

For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country, 1265 

Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and 
sisters. 

So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed endeavor, 

Ended to recommence no more upon earth, uncomplain- 
ing', * 

Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her thoughts 
and her footsteps. 

As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the morn- 
ing 1270 

Roll away ; and afar we behold the landscape below us, 

Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and hamlets, 

So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world far 
below her, 

Dark no longer, but all illumined with love; and the path- 
way 

Which she had climbed so far, lying' smooth and fair in 
the distance. 1275 

Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was his image 

Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she beheld 
him. 

Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and ab- 
sence. 

Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was not. 

Over him years had no power; he was not changed, but 
transfigured; 12 ( S() 

He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not 
absent; 

Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others, 

This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught 
her. 

So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous spicei 

Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with 
aroma. 1285 



A TALE OF AC AD IE 67 

Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow 
- Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour. 

Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; frequent- 
ing 

Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the 
city, 

Where distress and want concealed themselves from the 
sunlight, 1290 

Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. 

Night after night when the world was asleep, as the watch- 
man repeated 

Loud, through the dusty streets, that all was well in the 
city, 

High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper. 

Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through 

the suburbs 1295 

'Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits for 

the market, 
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its 

watchings. 

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the city, 

tPresaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks of wild 
pigeons, 

Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their 
craws but an acorn. 1300 

And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of Sep- 
tember, 

Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in the 

j meadow, 

So death flooded life, and, overflowing its natural margin, 

Spread to a brackish lake the silver stream of existence. 

Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, the 
oppressor; 1305 

But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his anger;— 

Only, alas! the poor, who had neither friends nor atten- 
dants, 



63 EVANGELINE 

Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless. 
Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and 

woodlands; — 
Now the city surrounds it; but still, with its gateway and 

wicket 1310 

Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to 

echo 
Softly the words of the Lord: — "The poor ye always have 

with 3-0U." 
Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of Mercy. 

The d}dng 
Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold 

there 
Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendor, 
Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and 

apostles, L316 

Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance. 
Unto their e} T es it seemed the lamps of the city celestial. 
Into whose shining gates erelong their spirits would enter. 

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, deserted 

and silent, l:*2(> 

Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the alma 

house. 
Sweet on the summer air w T as the odor of flowers in the 

garden, 
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among 

them, 
That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance 

and beauty. 
Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, cooled l>\ 

the east-wind, l;i: 

Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry 

of Christ Church, 
While, intermingled with these, across the meadows were 

wafted 



A TALE OF ACADIE 69 

Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes in their 

church at Wicaco. 
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her 

spirit ; 
Something within her said, "At length thy trials are 

ended;" . 1330 

And, with light in her looks, she entered the chambers of 

sickness. 
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attendants, 
Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching brow, and in 

silence 
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing 

their faces. 
Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow by the 

roadside. 1335 

Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, 
Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for 

her presence 

Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a 
prison. 

And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler, 
Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it for- 
ever. 1340 
Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night time; 
Vacant their places were, or filled already by strangers. 

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, 

Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while a shud- 
der 

Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets 
dropped from her fingers, 1345 

And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the 
morning. 

Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible an- 
guish, 

That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows. 



70 EVANGELINE 

On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old 



man. 



Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that shaded his 
temples; 1350 

But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment 

Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier man- 
hood; 

So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dy- 



ing. 



Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever. 

As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled its 
portals, [355 

That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and pass over. 

Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit ex- 
hausted 

Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the 
darkness, 

Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sink- 
ing. 

Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied rever- 
berations, 1360 

Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that suc- 
ceeded 

Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saintlike, 

"Gabriel! O my beloved!" and died away into silence. 

Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his 
childhood; 

Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers amon- them, 
Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under 

their shadow, iggg 

As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision 
Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his ei 

lids, 

Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his 
bedside. 



A TALE OF AC ABIE 71 

Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents un- 
uttered ' 1370 

Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his 
tongue would have spoken. 

Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling beside 
him, 

Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. 

Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it suddenly sank into 
darkness, 

As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a case- 
ment. 1375 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sor- 
row, 

All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, 

All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience! 

And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her 
bosom, 

Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I 
thank thee!" 1380 



Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its 
shadow, 

Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleep- 
ing. 

Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard, 

In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed. 

Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them, 

Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and 
forever, 1386 

Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are 
busy, 

Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from 
their labors, 

Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed 
their journey! 



72 



EVANGELINE 



Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of 

its branches 1390 

Dwells another race, with other customs and language. 
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic 
Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom. 
In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still 

busy; 1396 

Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of 

homespun, 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story. 
While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring 

ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the 

forest. 




EVANGELINE. 

(From painting by Thomas Foed.) 



NOTES. 



Key to pronunciation. (5 represents sound of a in arm; e represents the 
vowel sound in prey, eight, fate ; i represents vowel sound in eve ; e the 
vowel sound in met ; u the sound in dune ; u as in burn ; e as in not ; e as in 
nor; as in note. 



3. Druids, priests of ancient Brit- 
ain, who performed their religious 
rites in groves of oak. That tree 
as well as the mistletoe sometimes 
growing upon it was regarded by 
them as sacred. 

of eld, of old. 

4. hoar, white, with hair white from 
age. 

15. Grand-Pre, (pronounced grdng- 
pre), French for grand prairie or 
large meadow, a village of Acadia, 
the scene of some of the story. 

19. Acadie (pron. a-ka-di), the 
poet's term for Acadia. 

20. Basin of Minas, a small bay on 
the eastern side of the Bay of 
Fundy. 

25. turbulent tides. Read about the 
tides in the Bay of Fundy and you 
will understand this allusion. 

29. Blomidon, a rocky promontory 
at the entrance of the Basin of 
Minas. 

34. Normandy, a part of France, 
formerly a distinct province, bor- 
dering the English channel. 

Henries, French kings of the 16th 
and 17th centuries. 

35. dormer-window, a window built 
upright in the sloping roof of a 
house and usually looking into a 
sleeping-room or dormitory. 
Hence the name. 

39. kirtle, usually designates an 
upper garment*; here apparently a 
petticoat. 

40. distaff ; the stick attached to the 
old-fashioned spinning wheel for 
holding the bunch of flax or wool 
to be spun. 

41. Gossiping. The shuttle is thrown 
back and forth through the warp 
of the cloth, and the noise it makes 
passing to and fro is likened to 
the sound of words passing from 
one person to another in chatting 
or gossiping. 

48. anon, soon after, immediately. 



49. angelus, the ringing of the 
church bell in the evening an- 
nouncing the time for prayers. 

61. Evangeline. Mr. Longfellow 
pronounced the word with thel 
short sound of i and not with the 
long sound. 

72. hyssop, a plant used for sprink- 
ling in religious ceremonies. 

74. chaplet, a string of beads used 
in counting prayers. 

missal, a book containing the 
prayers used in the service of the 
mass in the Eoman Catholic 
church. 
79. confession, a religious service. 

87. penthouse, a shed with a roof 
all sloping one way, usually built 
against another building. 

89. Mary, the mother of Christ. 

93. wains, wagons. 

94. seraglio, (pron. se-ral-yo) an in- 
closure, here of chickens and tur- 
keys. 

96. Peter. See Luke XXII, 60, 61. 

102. weathercocks, weather vanes 
in the form of cocks. They rat- 
tled as their position shifted with 
the puffs of wind. 

111. patron saint, a saint chosen as 
a special guardian. 

115. Lajeunesse, (pron. la-zhe-nes) 

122. the plain-song, the Gregorian 
chant in church music. 

128. circle of cinders. Did you ever 
watch a blacksmith put a tire on 
a wheel ? 

138. An old French story says that 
if a young swallow is blind its 
mother finds on the seashore a 
small stone by which she restores 
its sight. 

144. St. Eulalie*s Davis February 12. 

••If the sun shines on St. Eulalie's 
Day there will be apples and cider 
in 'plenty,* - was an old Xc»rman 
saying. 



n 



NOTES. 



149. Scorpion, one of the twelve signs 
of the Zodiac which the sun en- 
ters late in October. 

150. Did you ever see or hear any 
birds of passage? What "passage' 1 
do they make? • 

153. See Genesis XXXII, 24-30. 

159. Along the north Atlantic what 
is called Indian summer begins 
about Nov. 1, which is the feast 
of All-Saints in the Roman Catho- 
lic Church. 

170. According to ancient writers, 
Xerxes, the Persian king, found a 
plane-tree which was so beautiful 
that he put a handsome mantle 
upon it and hung it with precious 
jewels. 

187. briny hay, smelling of sea- 
water, having been cut near the 
seashore. 

189. saddles, covering the collar and 
names. 

205. dresser, a set of shelves for 
holding dishes. 

209. Burgundy, in the eastern part 
of France. Formerly a separate 
province. Famous for its wines, 
as Normandy is for its cider. 

213. bagpipe, a wind instrument 
mucn used in Scotlant. 

217. Notice how the click of the clock 
is represented by the last two 
words in the line. 

223. settle, a bench with a high back. 

231. Finding a horse shoe has long 
been regarded as a sign of good 
luck. 

236. Why did she light it with a coal 
instead of handing him a match 
with the pipe? 

238. Gaspereau, a river near Grand 
Pre flowing into the Basin of 
Minas. 

A ship u rides at anchor" when 
its anchor is holding it. 

239. The purpose of the British was 
kept a secret until it was an- 
nounced in the church. 

249. Louisburg, a town and fort on 
Cape Breton Island, built by the 
French, besieged and captured by 
the British in 1745. 

BeauSejour (pron. bo se zhur) a 
French fort on the isthmus be- 
tween Nova Scotia and New 
Brunswick, captured by the Brit- 
ish just before the expulsion of 
the Acadians. 



Port Royal, now Annapolis, in 
Nova Scotia, founded by the 
French and captured bv the Brit- 
ish in 1710. 

259. contract, signing of the mar- 
riage contract between Evangeline 
and Gabriel. 

260. The house and barn wore built 
for the young couple, and their 
ground (glebe) plowed, to give 
them a start. 

263. Rene' Leblanc, the notary, a pub 
lie officer authorized to attest rh>> 
signatures to contracts and other 
documents. 

280. Loup-gareau, (pron. Ifl-gll rfl) 
man-wolf; a man having power to 
change himself into a wolf to de 
vour children. 

232. LL : tiche, (pron. le-tish). 

2S1. It is the popular belief in soin* 

iKirts of Europe that the cattle 
Lonoi tin- birth <>f Christ on 
Christmas eve by falling on their 
knees. 

285. A nutshell with a Bpider in it 
was believed in some parts of 
England to have the power of car 

ing a fever if hung around the 
neck. 

28*5. Finding a four-leavod cloi 
still a s,l,mi of good luck with 
some people. 

293. in sooth, in truth. 

307. brazen, made of bronze. Justice 
is often represented by a >t at n. 

a woman, blindfolded, w ith a pair 
of balances in her left hand, ami 
a sword in her right, to signifj 
the impartiality, the precision, 
and the power which ought to p.. 
long to justice. 

335. dower, the property a w i f e 
brings to her husband in "mar 

337. Seal, a stamp impressed upon 
or fastened to a conl ract or <>: tier 
document to make it binding in 
law. 

344. draught-board, checker hoard 

348. embrasure, the enlargement «>f 
the opening for a window, on the 
inside of the wall. 

354. Curfew, the ringing of a boll in 
towns and villages which 
notice to the inhabitants that it 
was time to put out their BP 
and their lights A custom in 
versal in the middle ages. 

381. See Gen. XXI, 14. 



NOTES. 



76 



413. Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres, 

(pron. til le bur-zhwfl. du shQrtr) 
French for "All the People of 
Chartres. 11 Le Carillon de Dun- 
kerque(pron. lu ka-ri-yong du dun- 
kerk. "The Chimes of Dunkirk. 1 ' 
Both are names of old French 
songs. 

442. Summer solstice, about the 21st 
of June. 

466. Tocsin is an alarm-bell, which 
is rung violently and irregularly. 
After the clamor of the tocsin the 
striking of the clock would seem 
solemn and distinct. 

476. See Luke XXIII, 34. 

484. Ave Maria (pron. ave ma-rt-ci) 
Latin for "Hail, Mary, 11 the first 
words of a Latin prayer in the 
Eoman Catholic service to the 
mother of Jesus. 

486. See 2 Kings, II, 11. 

498. ambrosial, fragrant. 

507. Prophet, Moses. See Ex. XXXIV, 
29-35. 

513. grave of the living, the church 
in which the men were held pris- 
oners. 

575. refluent, flowing back as the 
tide was going out. 

577. waifs, things that come along 
by chance, wich no owner. 

579. leaguer, camp of an a"my. 

584. far up the shore, because of the 
fall of the tide. 

597. See acts XXVII, XXVIII. 

605. Benedicite, Latin for "bless 
you. 11 

615. Titan-like, like one of the 
mythological race of Titans who 
had a hundred hands. 

621. gleeds, burning coals. 

631. Nebraska, usually known as the 
Platte River. 

657. bell or book, without funeral 
bell or prayer book for the burial 
service. 

668. household gods, the keepsakes 
and heirlooms which the various 
families took with them. 

672. Banks of Newfoundland, the 
shallow parts of the ocean border- 
ing on Newfoundland, famous as 
a fishing ground and noted for 
fogs. 

674. savannas, low, treeless plains. 

675. Father of Waters, Mississippi 
River. 



677. Mammoth, a very large extinct 
elephant. 

705. Coureurs-des-bois, (pron. c u- 
rur de-bwa) runners of the wood, 
guides for hunters and traders in 
the forests. 

707. Voyageur, (pron. vwa-ya-zhfir) 
a Canadian boatman who carried 
goods on the inland lakes and 
rivers. 

713. ' 'To braid St. Catherine's Tress r 
es," a French proverb meaning 
to live unmarried. 

732. shards, literally, pieces of 
broken earthenware. Figurative- 
ly, the sorrows of life. 

733. essay, try, attempt. 

OMuse! the goddess of poetry 
invoked as a patron. 

741. Beautiful River, the Ohio. 

750. Acadian coast, the districts near 
the mouth of the Mississippi, 
which were settled largely by ex- 
iled Acadian farmers. 

Opelousas, a town and district 
of Louisiana. 

761. china-tree, the soapberry, an 
evergreen bearing red berries used 
for soap, which grows in some of 
the southern States. 

764. Golden Coast. The banks of the 
Mississippi just above New Or- 
leans received this name because 
of the great richness of the soil. 

766. Bayou of Plaquemine, (pron. 
plak-min ) connected the Mis- 
sissippi with the Atchafalaya. 

769. tenebrous, dark, casting gloomy 
shadows. 

782. mimosa, a genus of plants, one 
species of which, called the sensi- 
tive plant, closes its leaves when 
disturbed. 

788. shadowy aisles, formed by the 
trees. 

807. Atchafalaya, a river of Louisi- 
ana. 

809. lotus, a beautiful water plant. 

812. sylvan, from Latin sylva, a wood 
or forest. 

818. Wichita or Ouachita, a river in 
Louisiana. 

819. cope, anything that arches over- 
head. 

821. See Gen. XXVIII, 10-12. 

842. tholes, two pins set in the sides 
of row boats to hold the oars in 
place. 



76 



NOTES. 



856. Teche. (pron. tesh") a bayou 
which flows into the Atchafalaya. 

ST8. Bacchantes, the followers of 
Bacchus, the god of wine, accord- 
ing to mythology. 

889. Spanish moss, a plant with gray 
stems and leaves, forming dense 
hanging tufts, which grows in the 
woods in the southern States. 

S89. Mistletoe, a parasitic, vine-like 
plant, with very small flowers, 
succeeded by white berries, which 
the early inhabitants of Britain 
and France believed had some 
magical power. Held sacred by 
the Druids, and cut from the tree 
with a knife or hatchet of gold. 

890. yule-tide, Christmas time. 

914. sombrero, a broad-brimmed hat 
worn by Mexicans especially. 

953. Adayes, in Texas. 

954. Ozark Mountains, in Arkansas 
and Missouri. 

956. Fates, were three goddesses of 
ancient mythology who had con- 
trol of human destiny. 

958. prison, because he was so un- 
happy in his life as a herdsman 
witn Basil. 

961. Olympus, a mountain in Greece 
upon which the gods of the Greek 
mythology lived. 

970, ci-devant, (pron. si-de-vcing) 
French for former, of the past. 

984. Natchitoches, (pron. natch-i- 
toch-es) a town and district of 
Louisiana. 

997. The Mississippi Valley was ex- 
plored chiefly by the French. The 
Acadian exiles reached New Or- 
leans in 1765. Louisiana was ceded 
to Spain in 1763 and given back to 
France in 1801. It never belonged 
to England. The United States 
purchased it in 1803. Basil alludes 
to King George because it was by 
King George II"s authority that 
he and his guests and friends had 
been driven from their "o 1 d 
home. 11 

1009. Creoles, persons born in the 
southern states of European an- 
cestors, French or Spanish. 

1033. Carthusians, an order of 
monks whose first monastery was 
founded near Chartreux, France, 
and one of whose rules was strict 
silence. 

1013. temple, the sky. 

1044. See Daniel V, 5-29. 



1057. The ancients believed that theu 
gods, from the caverns or gro 
where they dwelled, answered in- 
quiries in regard to the future. 

1063. See Luke XV. 11 

10:U. See Matthew XXV, 1 13. 

1052. Oregon, now the Columbia 
River. Walleway. a river which 
rises in Nevada and flows Into the 
Snake River. 

1053. Wind-river Mountains, in Wyo- 
ming. 

1054. Sweet-water Valley, also in 
Wyoming. Precipitate, as ow-r 
a precipice. 

1085. Fontaine-qui-bout,i pron. fong- 
ten-ki-bil i French for boiling 

spring: a creek in Colorado. 

Spanish Sierras, a in o u n t a i n 
range in Utah and Ne* N ' 

1091. amorpha. a Bmall shrub having 
long dense clusters of blue-'s lole< 
flow era. 

1095. Ishmael, Genesis \\r. 11 M. 
The American Indians are some- 
times called hi- descendants be- 
canse of their wandering habits 
and warlike spirit. 

1102. anchorite monk, one who baa 
withdrawn from the world. 
hermit. 

1114. Fata Morgana, a mirau'«'. by 
which distant objects ap|> 
inverted. 

1121. Se< note on line " 

1144. incantation, a ceremony osed 
for enchanting by magic. 

114."). Lilinau, i pron. lt-11 nO) the 
subject of an Indian lc<_ r --nd. 

11CT. Black Robe chief, a noted J< 
nit pri.-r. bo called bj the Indiana 
because of his black drei 

1182. susurrus, whispering. 

1219. compass-flower, ;■ tall, bristly 

planl of the American prair 

whose large lower lea^ es ai 
• to assume a vertical position w if h 

their edges turned north a n d 

south. 

1225. this humble plant, faith. 

1226. asphodel, Rower which abounds 

in the p'L r ion>of the dead rd 

inL r to tin- ancient po< I 

1227. nepenthe, a drug which w 
Bupp >sed b> the < '!-.-. -k- to relit 

pain anil to drive away >orr 

1241. Moravians,* a Christian 
founded by .John 1 1 use h 
in the fifteenth century. I ted 



NOTES. 



77 



for Hs missionary zeal. In some 
sections the sect is known as 
United Brethren. 
1258. Penn, William Penn, a Quaker, 
who was the first settler in the 
State named after him. 

1234. city, Philadelphia. 

1250. re-echo, since many of the 
streets have the names of trees. 

12.7. Dryads, imaginary beings 
which the ancients believed lived 



in the forests and protected them. 

1288. Sister of Mercy, a member of 
an order of women in the Roman 
Catholic church whose work is to 
care for the sick and the poor. 

1296. Germantown, forr^rly some 
way from Philadelp i , but now 
a part of the city, was seUled by 
Germans. 

1312. See Mark XIV, 7. 

1355. See Exodus XII, 22, 23. 




MAP OF 

Acadia 



Historical Foundation of the Poem. 

In the year 1668 the territory now included in New 

Brunswick and Nova Scotia and formerly known as Acadia 

was ceded by England to France, the limits not being 

clearly defined. During- the next fifty years a few French 

settlements were made in the country. In 1713, as the 

result of a good deal of fighting in Europe between Pram 

and England and in this country between their colonies, 

Acadia was ceded to Great Britain. During the next half 

century France and England continued to be enemies and 

in the wars which occurred between them the American 

colonies participated. During all these years, although 

Acadia was a British possession, the inhabitants of the 

French settlements had more or less to do with Incitil 

and helping the Indians in their warfare against the New 

England Colonies. No English settlements had been made 

in this territory, and efforts had been put forth by the 

English to win the loyalty of the French Acadians, but in 

vain. Naturally the people of New England, as well as of 

the mother country, felt aggrieved at the conduct of the 

Acadians. Various commissions were Ben! to them t<» gel 

them to take the oath of allegiance to the British crown 

which they invariably declined to do. Thej pretended t<> 

be neutrals, but the colonists of New England wore con 

vinced that their neutrality simply mean! secret hostility 

and warfare. What followed is thus told b} our historians: 

"The campaign of the year 1755, which had opened in 

Nova Scotia with so much success and which promised a 

glorious termination, disappointed the expectations and 

awakened the fears of the colonists. The melancholj and 

total defeat of the army under General Braddock while 

his march against Fort Du Quesne, threw a gl< \ , , the 

British Provinces. Niagara and Crown Poini were aot 

only unsubdued, but it was evident that < tovernoi Shi] 



HISTORICAL FACTS. 



79 



would have to abandon for this year at least the attempt; 
while Louisburg was re-inforced, the savages let loose upon 
the defenseless settlements of the English, and the tide of 
war seemed ready to roll back upon the invaders. Amidst 
this general panic Governor Lawrence and his council took 
into consideration the necessary measures that were to be 
adopted toward the Acadians. * * * It was finally 
determined to remove and disperse this whole people 
among the British colonies where they could not unite in 
any offensive measures, and where they might be natural- 
ized to the government and country. The execution of this 
unusual and general sentence was allotted chiefly to the 
New England forces, the commander of which (Colonel 



MAP OF 

Lower Louisiana 
where Evangeline wandered 




80 NOTES ON EVANGELINE. 

Winslow), from the humanity and firmness of his character, 
was well qualified to carry it into effect. It was without 
doubt, as he himself declared, disagreeable to his natural 
make and temper, and his principles of implicit obedience 
as a soldier were put to a severe test by this ungrateful 
kind of duty. * * * They were kept entirely ignorant 
of their destiny until the moment of their captivity, and 
were overawed or allured to labor at the gathering in of 
their harvest, which was secretly allot ted to the use of their 
conquerors." — T. C. Haliburton, Account of Nova Scotia, 
"The Acadian prisoners and their families were divided 
into groups, answering to their several villages, in order 
that those of the same village might, as far as possible, 
in the same vessel. It was also provided thai the members 
of each family should remain together: and uotice w;i^ 
given them to hold themselves in readiness. "Bui even 
now," writes Colonel Winslow, *vl could ao1 persuade the 
people I was in earnest/' Their doubts were soon ended. 
The first embarkation took place on the 8th of October, 
1755. * * * When all or nearly all had been scut off from 
the various points of departure, such of the houses and barns 
as remained standing were burned, thai those who had 
escaped might be forced to come in and surrender them 
selves. The whole number removed from the provinc 
men, women, and children, was a little above 6,000. Many 
remained behind, and while some of these withdrew to 
Canada, Isle St. Jean, and other distant retreats, the rest 
lurked in the woods or returned to their old haunts, 
whence they waged for several years a guerilla warfare 
against the English. Yet their strength was broken and 
they were no longer a danger to the province. Of their 
exiled countrymen, one party overpowered the ere* of the 
vessel that carried them, ran her ashore at the mouth of 
the St. John, and escaped. The rest were distributed 
among the colonies from Massachusetts to Q 
Though the Acadians were not in general ill treated, th< 



THE METSR. 81 

lot was a hard one. Many of the exiles eventually reached 
Louisiana, where their descendents now form a numerous 
and distinct population. * * * What ever judgment 
may be passed on the cruel measure of wholesale expatri- 
ation, it was not put in execution until every resource of 
patience and persuasion had been tried in vain." — F. Park- 
man, Montcalm and Wolfe. 

"The removal of the French A cadians from their homes 
was one of the saddest episodes in modern history, and no 
one will attempt to justify it; but it should be added that 
the genius of our great poet has thrown a somewhat false 
and distorted light over the character of the victims. They 
were not the peaceful and simple-hearted people they are 
commonly supposed to have been, and their houses, as we 
learn from contemporary evidence, were by no means the 
picturesque, vine clad and strongly built cottages de- 
scribed by the poet. The people were notably quarrel- 
some among themselves and to the last degree supersti- 
tious. * * * Even in periods when France and England 
were at peace the French A cadians were a source of per- 
petual daoger to the E glish colonists. Their claim to a 
qualified allegiance was one which no nation then or now 
could sanction. But all this does not justify their expul- 
sion and the manner in which it was executed."— C. C. 
Smith, The Wars on the Seaboard. 

Meter. 

The chief characteristic of poetry is that the accented 
syllables come at such regular intervals that we feel the 
rhythm, as it is called. In other words, we can beat time 
when we read the poetry, putting proper stress on the ac- 
cented svllables. 

Evangeline is written in what is called hexameter verse, 
there being six accents in each line. The prevailing foot 
is the dactyl, consisting of an accented syllable followed 
by two unaccented syllables, but so often other feet are 



£2 NOTES ON EVANGELINE. 

substituted in place of the dactyl that the poem hfl be 

called irregular in its meter. However, when you once gei 

the swing of its movement it is not hard to read it and 

make the rhythm distinct. The first line is a fine example 

of a dactylic hexameter line: 

/ / / / 

"This is the j forest prim eval. With murmuri] 

winds and the hemlocks 91 

The first syllable in each fool is accented and each 
cented syllable is followed by two unaccented -\ llables, 
except in the last foot, where the accented syllable 
followed, as it is in the last fool of every line, by only one 
unaccented syllable. 

Here is an irregular line, of which there are many in the 

poem : 

"Stand like | Druids of old, with roio id and pn 

phetic." 

The first, third, and fourth accents in this In prell 

as the last are each followed by only one unaccented 
syllable. By reading a number of lines the m • less 

regular recurrence of accents will be fell and in moel 
cases the feet can be easily discriminated. 

For example, here is a passage the meter of which 
quite irregular: 

/ / / / 

Many a | weary | year had passed since the | burningof | 

Grand Pre, 

When on the I falling | tide the freighted reesels de | 

parted, 

Bearing a | nation, with all its household | I | 

exile, 

Exile with | out an | end, and with | out an i mple in| 

story. 




BIOGRAPHY 83 

For young people who have not yet studied the laws of 
meter it may not be worth while to attempt to teach them 
to scan all the lines. But it contributed to delicacy in 
reading and appreciating poetry to become familiar with 
the meter and rhythm. Hence in reading Evangeline some 
care should be taken to train the young readers to give due 
force to the accents, but taking care not to overdo the 
matter. 

Mr. Longfellow's effort to adapt hexameter verse to our 
ordinary English speech is not altogether satisfactory. 
Beautiful as the poem is in other respects, the meter 
sometimes gives rather a strained and unnatural effect. It 
often puts a false accent on the first word or syllable in 
the line. It often requires the usual order of words to be 
inverted. This is not rare in poetry, and when it does not 
occur too often has a pleasant effect, but in Evangeline 
there are places where it becomes unnatural if not monoto- 
nous in its frequency. 

Biographical Note. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was born in Portland, 
Maine, February 27, 1F07. His father, a man of means, 
was a leading lawyer of the city, and the boy had in his 
home the advantage of books in abundance and of culti- 
vated society. He began to write verses when he was 
only thirteen, some of them not very successful ones, it 
must be confessed, although they were printed in the news- 
papers At fourteen he entered Bowdoin (pron. bo-din) 
College at Brunswick, Maine, from which he graduated in 
1825 at the age of eighteen, with Nathaniel Hawthorne as 
a classmate. He began to study law with his father, but 
was soon offered the professorship of modern languages in 
Bowdoin, with permission to visit Europe and spend what 
time he desired to in travel and study for the purpose of 
better preparing himself for his duty as a professor. He 
stayed three years and returned to his native land a 



g£ -.NOTES ON LYANGEL1NE. 

master of the four great European languages and litera- 
tures, French, German, Italian, and Spanish. 

In 1831 he married Miss Mary Potter, a beautiful and 
most highly accomplished young lady of Portland, and 
three years of most happy home life were spent in the okl 
college town. 

He had written and lectured a good deal and in l v 
published his first i i portant work in pi Outre Iter, 
a Pilgrimage beyond the Sea." In 1885 he was eleet< 
the chair of modern languages in Harvard Coll To 

still better equip himself for his work and to gi\ » Special 
attention to Switzerland and Scandinavia, he again visited 
Europe, accompanied by his wit i fter delightful visits 
in London, Copenhagen, and Stockholm, Mrs, Longfellow 
was taken sick and died in Rotterdam, [n thai beautiful 
poem, "The Footsteps of Angels/ the poei }>a\> loving 
tribute to the departed wife, * the Being Beauteous. 91 

Upon his return from Europe he took up his abode in 
Cambridge, taking lodging in the famous Cragie Hotlfl 
which had been Washington's headquarters during the 
siege of Boston. While traveling in Switzerland during 
his last tour, he met Miss Frances Appleton, irho seven 
years later, in 1843, became his wile. Her father, a wealthy 
Boston merchant, bought the Cragie estate and settled 
the newly married couple in the historic house as it- 
owners. Here Mr. Longfellow lived until hi- death. 

The poet's study was the front room on the right, need 
by General Washington as a reception room. B\ the hi 
place still stands the "children's arm-chair." The ohambei 
over the study was the children's nursery, and "111. ol,| 
Clock on the Stairs" tells of scenes in the happj boo 
where five children were raised, two boi nd thi 
daughters. 

To widen a street the city authorities of Cambridge 
deemed it necessary to cut down tin preadil 

chestnut tree" referred to in "The Village Blacksmith 






B'OGRAPDY 



86 



The poet protested in vain. The children of the public 
schools of Cambridge by their contributions had a large 
arm-chair made from the wood of the tree and presented 
it to the poet on his seventy-second birthday. He prized 
+ he gift highly as shown in the poem "From My Arm-Chair." 
Mr Longfellow's fame, already considerable, was greatly 
increased in 1847 by the publication of Evangeline, which 
was accepted at once as his masterpiece. Its popularity 
attests its beauty and power to touch the heart. The 
author was indebted to Hawthorne for the subject. The 
three friends, Charles Sumner, Hawthorne, and Long- 
fellow were dining together, when Hawthorne narrated 
the legend of the two Acadian lovers, separated and wan- 
dering for years, meeting only to die, which deeply im- 
pressed him as a goo i foundation for a novel, and for a 
time he thought of using it for that purpose, but finally 
gave it up. Then Longfellow asked his permission to use 
it for a poem. He freely consented and was one of the 
first persons to congratulate the author of Evangeline. 

In 1851 Longfellow resigned his professorship in order 
to devote himself wholly to writing. Evangeline was fol- 
lowed at brief intervals by other volumes, Hiawatha ap- 
pearing in 1855 and reaching a higher instant popularity 
even than Evangeline. Encouraged by his success in these 
two "native" poems, as they may be called, he published a 
a third, ''The Courtship of Miles Standish " in 185S, he 
himself, as well as his friend-poet, Bryant, being a direct 
descendent of John Alden and Priscilla. These three are 
the most popular of American poems. They were com- 
posed during the bright mature years of the poet's life, 
while his family was growing up about him, and his power 
and fame were increasing. 

In the midst of his happiness a second terrible calamity 
suddenly changed his joy into sadness, the death of Mrs. 
Longfellow. One day in July, 1861, in the library with 
her two little girls, she was sealing up some small pack- 



86 NOTES ON EVANGELINE. 

ages of their curls which she had just cut off, when ft 
burning match falling to the floor set fire to her light 
dress. Her injuries were fatal and she died the next 
morning. In trying to aid her the poet himself was so 
severely burned that he was unable to attend her funeral, 
which took place on the anniversary of their marriage day, 

Crushed in spirit Longfellow set to work to translate 
the "Divine Comedy" of Dante, finding the work absorb 
ing and consoling. It was published in 1S(>7, as was also 
a volume of poems which had been composed while the 
larger task was in progress. 

In 1868 Longfellow with his daughters visited Europe 
and was warmly welcomed everywhere. The two oldest 
universities of England conferred honorary degrees upon 
him, and Queen Victoria invited him to dine with her, 

During the next ten years the poet was industrious, 
nearly every year being marked by the appearance of 
some important work. 

Longfellow's seventy-fifth birthday had just been cele- 
brated in the schools all over the country, when on March 
15, 1882, he wrote the last lines of his last poem, "fiellfl of 
San Bias:" 

Out of the shadows of night 
The world rolls into light. 

It is day break every where. 

The following Saturday four Boston schooling paid 
him a visit by his permission. He treated them with his 
invariable kindness, writing his autograph in their albums. 
He was taken ill that night, and died the nexl Friday, 
March 24, 1882. 

Space does not permit an enumeration of his works, Tf 
the sales of an author's works are a measure of his popu 
larity, Longfellow is not only the most popular poet of 
America, but the most popular poet of the English Ian 
guage in this century. 



INTRODUCTION. 

The arrangement of the matter in this book indicates 
the editor's firm conviction as to the plan which should be 
pursued in starting young people in the reading of litera- 
ture. The poem stands first. It is not preceded by even 
a preface or an introduction. When young people take up 
a literary work, the very first thing for them to do is to 
begin to read the work its If. They should not be halted 
at the threshold to read or hear a preliminary explan- 
ation or anything of the kind. All notes and commments 
should be kept in the background. Even notes at the 
foot of the page are too obtrusive. It is of first import- 
ance that pupils should take, and should delight to take, 
the clear text and do what they can with it, consulting 
the notes only as a last resort. Nothing should tend to 
give them the impressioa, which they too often get, that 
the work in hand is beyond their power to enjoy without 
help. Could anything more completely spoil the antici- 
pated pleasures of a journey than to feel that we can make 
it only by the help of crutches? For the hearty traveler 
the conquest of rugged places but adds zest to his pleas- 
ure. To dig and delve for the meaning of a passage is a 
wholesome exertion which no young person should be 
afraid of. While explanation is at times absolutely neces- 
sary and should be accessible it should not be furnished 
too freely nor should the reader be too eager to obtaii it. 

The notes to this edition are put out of the way as far 
as practicable. They are full enough to meet the needs 
of the least mature while they can readily be ignored by 
those who have no use for them. The dictionary must be 
consulted. Passages must be talked over. Questions must 
be asked and answered. Sentiment should be evoked. 
The notes leave abundant service for the wise and sympa- 
thetic teacher to render. 



§8 introduction. 

The Danger of Formal Stcdy. 

This poem is very simple in its structure, and the editor 
has grave doubt as to the wisdom of requiring tung 
readers to put much effort on the formal analysis of it. or 
of any other poem, in fact. With more mature cla 
the careful analysis and minute study of one or t? 
masterpieces is of great value. But this is a kind of work 
which is easily overdone. 

Enjoyment of Literature the Chief Object. 

The one great object to be aimed at in the study of lit- 
erature in school is to make the pupils en jo J it, to till them 
full of enthusiasm for it. When they leave school, ftfl many 
of them do at the end of the 8th grade, or in th»* first y< 
of the High School, if they do not look back upon their 
reading in the English classics as a sourer oi genuine 
pleasure and delight, the literature course has been largelj 
a failure for them. The formal study of a literary produc 
tion easily becomes so burdensome for young people as to 
create a distaste for the reading of the best literature in- 
stead of promoting a taste for it. Such a result is to 
deplored, es its effects last through life. No amount 
knowledge obtained by the pupil can com] te for I 

failure to acquire in youth a fondness for the best reading. 

Don't Abuse Good Literature. 

The best teachers are careful not to use a choice piece of 
literature as the basis of an exercise in grammar. 0© 
sio ally it may be well to analyze or di in an involved 

sentence or to give the syntax or etymol >i a woi 

order to bring out the meani g of a passage more clearly. 
But such work for general purposes should not find plfl 
in the literature class. 

Nor should the literature lesson or reading be mad. 

go cart for hauling all sorts of historical and g iphioal 
facts into consideration. In studying any uork of art the 



r 

P 



INTRODUCTION. 89 

gaining of information should be a wholly subordinate and 
incidental matter. The purpose of art is to arouse feeling 
and emotion, to call forth sentiment. This purpose is 
thwarted by the painstaking study of allusions in which 
the gaining of information over shadows everything else. 
Of course it will not do to overlook that amount of knowl- 
edge which is essential to the interpretation of the litera- 
ture. But when a class is set to work to run down in a 
laborious and encyclopedic way all the references in a 
choice piece of ltteraaiure a mistake has been made. The 
information may be valuable, to be sure, but let it be 
gained in some other connection. 

How Many Times Should a Work Be Read? 

If a class is willing to read a literary work a second or 
a third time, well and good. Encourage it by all means. 
It is characteristic of a true work of art that the more we 
study it, the more we find in it to enjoy. But it must not 
be forgotten that the taste and emotion of young people 
must have time to grow to the level of what they are ex- 
ercised on. If a class shows no desire to read Evangeline 
a second time, it would be unwise to press it. Let them 
pass on to other works. With proper training, ia time, 
their appetite will surely call for Evangeline again. That 
will be an indication of growth. 

The writer has very little sympathy with the advice so 
often given that a literary work should be read by a class 
two or three times, each time with a specifically different 
purpose, to master the plot, or to study the characters, or 
to study the art, style, figures of speech, etc. That is all 
right if interest and enjoyment can be sustained. Tut 
people who enjoy literature do not read in that way in the 
home or study. 

Reading Aloud. 

It is a serious omission in the class study of such a poem 
as Evangeline not to have it read aloud. To be sure the 



90 INTRODUCTION. 

poorest readers in a class will sadly mar it. But that must 
be endured. Give all a chance. Lead them to covet it. 
If they once come to truly appreciate the sweet pathoe at 
the poem and to be touched with the tender sympathy 
which it ought to create, the}' will soon become feeling 
and appreciative readers. 

Memorizing. 

Pupils should be encouraged to memorize and recite the 
most beautiful and striking passages ia any \\ irk that 
they read.* The young person who does not enter into 

this work in school with alacrity may expect t< the 

day when he will regret it. 



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